Wives' Tales
by myfreudianslip
Summary: Where Arthur goes 'Oh noes, my rep,' and Merlin goes 'Oh noes, my virtue,' and Gwen goes, 'Oh noes, my big mouth,' and Morgana plots evil plots.


**Title**: Wives' Tales (or The City Where They All Gossiped And Did Naught Much Else.)  
**Rated**: PG 13  
**Pairing**: MerlinxArthur  
**Word Count**: 2,463  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own.  
**Summary**: Where Arthur goes 'Oh noes, my rep,' and Merlin goes 'Oh noes, my virtue,' and Gwen goes, 'Oh noes, my big mouth,' and Morgana plots evil plots.  
**Notes**: This is all a part of my plan to make everyone give up the will to live. And it's also not written by me, I refuse to acknowledge it.

---

Merlin had heard of them of course. It was hard not to when you were in the kitchens for more than a good half hour everyday, or in the market, or the laundry rooms, or the stables…decidedly the addition of the last venue to the list was a tad puzzling - Merlin hadn't ever considered the possibility of _gossiping horses_ (bless their souls), but then he learnt, all too late, that even the stable boys had sisters. Oh well.

It was disconcerting at first, how these utter _lies_ took flight with no real base (none damn it) to vouch for them. Then it became, sort of, after Gwen manhandled his hyperventilating, frothing self into her house and sat him down with a nice cup of tea, acceptable, because apparently _this sort of thing happened all the time_.

'You should have heard the things they cooked up about me and Lady Morgana,' Gwen told him patiently. 'These rumors can get pretty ridiculous at times. Especially when they're true.'

Then she blushed furiously and Merlin choked into his tea.

'Excuse me?' he squeaked at her. 'Arthur and I are _not_-'

'Of course you're not,' she amended quickly. 'I know that of course. Arthur likes girls. Arthur kisses girls, so. _Not_ -' She added hastily. 'That I'd know anything about it.'

Merlin stared at her.

'Because that would be absurd. Is that the time?'

*

His only saving grace, Merlin decided, was that Arthur was blissfully oblivious to all the tales of what he did to his manservant under covers at night. It would be frightful if he had an inkling of what was going on, really. Arthur had no sense of sobriety when it came to matters of his dick. If he heard that his entire _country_ thought that he made a habit of tying Merlin to the royal bedpost and screwing the living daylights out of him, he was bound to go on a heterosexual rampage just so he could prove to the world and to himself, that he was more than capable of spawning baby heirs, thank you very much you dipshits.

And Merlin didn't want that. Because Arthur was the crown prince and he didn't need his testicles to leave the greasy stains of scandal all over his reputation. Obviously.

And to tell the truth, it wasn't even that big of a deal anymore, now that Merlin had gotten somewhat used to the leers of the palace cook, and the knowing glances that the washer girls passed his way. Yes, his chances at a romantic social life obviously scaled a dismal zero, unless ladies fancied imperial leftovers nowadays, but Merlin was optimistic, and he could only hope that after this sudden fetish of The Man and his Maid ('_Manservant_!' Merlin had corrected Lady Morgana in very righteous indignation) sagas blew over, he would maybe get a nice girl who would be very understanding of his tight schedule and late hours.

So Merlin didn't think about it _at all_. Not when Arthur pinned him to the ground while sparring, and breathed hot and heavy into his neck. Or when he slid his forefinger over the blade of his sword _just so_ and said, 'Looks like you actually remembered to use polish this time, Merlin. I commend you, _Merlin_. Really.'

Or when Arthur was looking at him like Merlin was too enormous a nut for him to ever figure out but he was glad that he stuck around anyway. Or when he did tiny, unmentionable things, like lean forward and pick a maggot out of Merlin's hair. Which, granted, did not hold much charm, but it wasn't charm that Merlin was looking for, was it, especially considering that all this didn't affect him at all.

'You've got it bad, haven't you?' Morgana said to him in passing one day when he was staring across the lawn at Arthur practicing with his knights. _Not_ because, you know, but because it was his duty to watch Arthur's back. Destiny and dragons and all that. 'Well, I suppose it cannot be helped. If you're not going to take the initiative yourself, you leave me no choice.'

Merlin stared at her, aghast. 'Please,' he told her fearfully. 'Please don't. It's very important to my health and happiness.'

'Oh, Merlin,' Morgana sighed, eyes burning with the fervour of evil and doom. 'Your health and happiness is exactly what I have in mind. And my dear Arthur's. You can trust my judgment.'

With a mad cackle, she turned away from him and made her way towards the castle.

*

Merlin couldn't really tell if Morgana had taken the steps to ruin his life yet or not. Arthur didn't seem to be acting very differently. All seemed safe. Except-

Merlin couldn't really help blaming Arthur _entirely_ for the outbreak of the rumors. Arthur had a strangely physical, extremely _male_way of showing his affection, and while Merlin appreciated that he was on the receiving end of it now and then, he wished Arthur didn't have to be so very public it.

He had often seen Morgana and Gwen hug openly. But they were _women_, and all women hugged openly. As was Merlin's understanding, women were those creatures who were allowed to hug anywhere, at any time, without having to feel awkward about it. At one point Merlin had counted seconds, and reached up to seventeen, before Morgana let go of Gwen.

But neither Arthur, nor he were women, and Merlin wished Arthur would respect that. Because while it was alright for Arthur to shove him around in good humour, and clap his shoulders and look deep into his eyes under _normal_ circumstances, it really, really wasn't when the villagers were all but certain about their notion of a deep and taboo love between the prince and his manservant.

So one day when Arthur, laughing ridiculously loud, eyes crinkling in amusement, was forcing Merlin's mouth open with a strong hold on his jaw and attempting to stuff a whole tomato inside in his quest to figure out whether the food was 'rotting or not', before an entire gathering of onlookers and a smirking vendor, Merlin flinched aside deliberately, said 'the food seems perfectly fine, sire,' and turned away with purpose, ignoring Arthur's calls of 'Merlin. Merlin. What the - _Merlin_!'

He didn't look back to see Arthur's expression because even he wasn't a fool enough to be unaware of the weakness of his resolve.

*

That evening Arthur stormed into Gauis's quarters and all but dragged Merlin outside by the hair.

'Do you know what they're saying?' he shouted, confirming all of Merlin's worst fears. 'Do you know what, what _stories_ are floating around?'

Merlin closed his eyes in despair. 'Yes.'

'And you didn't think to _tell_ me?' Arthur said harshly. 'You didn't think it was important to my honor, my dignity as the crown prince -'

'I -' Merlin stuttered hoping to get this over with the safest possible way. 'I was hoping you'd never find out, actually. These things are just rumors Arthur. They'll die down in no time, you really shouldn't take them so seriously.'

Arthur's nostrils flared precariously with the heavy exhalation that followed. 'You really expect, Merlin, for me to be calm about the whole thing when the country I'm supposed to _rule_ one day is under the impression that I'm a daft snog?'

'Ye - wait,' Merlin stared. 'What?"

'Morgana told me,' Arthur said, looking the most miserable Merlin had ever seen him, which, even though Merlin knew better, didn't speak much for his priorities. 'They think that a fish could kiss better than their crown prince. They think that I'll never manage heirs.'

Merlin closed his mouth with some difficulty.

'Arthur,' he said carefully, feeling completely at a loss as to why Morgana would want to create such a gross misunderstanding. 'I'm sure they don't actually believe that. At any rate, _you_ know it's not true so -'

'But Merlin don't you see?' said Arthur impatiently. 'I _don't_. What if they're right? What if I don't manage heirs because I don't know how to snog well enough? I have to prove to myself that I can.'

Merlin tried, with as serious a face as he could, to come up with a reasonable solution.

'Well,' he tried. 'Maybe you could ask one of the women you have kissed in the past.'

Arthur glared at him. 'You think that hasn't already occurred to me? It's a stupid idea, Merlin, as I should have expected from the worst manservant in the history of Camelot. Who am I supposed to ask? Sophie? Not bloody possibly likely. And I could ask Guinevere I suppose, but that would be mighty awkward so -'

'Gwen!' Merlin squeaked in grave shock.

In the dim light of the lamp across the street, Arthur coloured slightly. 'Shut up, Merlin. That was just one time,' then again. 'Shut up.'

'Gwen,' Merlin said again.

'Yes, Guinevere. Now can we please concentrate on the problem at hand?' Arthur said exasperatedly. 'Merlin, stop spacing out.'

Merlin tried to shake himself clear of all the…feelings this new bit of information stirred in his spinning head. Arthur and Gwen. Arthur and Guinevere. _King_ Arthur and Guinevere.

'Um,' he muttered, suddenly wanting very much to go back inside. 'I don't know. You could kiss someone new maybe, and ask them what they think?'

'Stupid idea again,' Arthur said dismissively. 'I'm the prince, no one's going to be honest with me if I really am a terrible kisser. They'd probably think that I'd give orders to execute them. Unless,' Arthur's eyes suddenly took on a new light, and he stared at Merlin. 'Unless.'

For some reason, Merlin felt his mouth turn dry.

'Merlin,' Arthur articulated, the syllables sharp and clear like the edge of a dagger. 'I need a person who's going to be perfectly honest with me.'

'Right,' Merlin stuttered. 'Right. Oh, is that the time?'

'Merlin,' Arthur said again, his mouth curling upwards and Merlin should really not be noticing things like that. 'Don't be a daft.'

_God_, Merlin thought, _this is really not_-

He bolted.

Of course Arthur managed to jerk him back with shameful ease. One sharp tug, in an almost possessive motion, and Merlin found himself aligned chest to chest with Arthur, his mouth being brutally attacked.

_Ow_, he thought, as Arthur bit, punishing, into his lower lip. _He really is a daft snog._

He placed his palms on Arthurs chest and used the leverage to push him back by a couple of inches.

'That was _terrible_' he hissed, feeling incredibly distressed. 'You don't - and - biting and -'

'That's because you wouldn't hold _still_, Merlin,' Arthur griped, looking annoyed. 'How am I supposed to -'

'You have to be gentler,' Merlin said, getting irritated himself. 'You can't just -'

'I _know_,' Arthur grit out. 'God, do you ever shut up?'

Then he leaned in, very carefully, and Merlin went, in spite of himself, absolutely still.

It was nothing more than a tentative touch of lips at first. Merlin tried to ignore the embarrassingly loud thumping in his chest, the completely inappropriate warmth in his stomach, and in general, every calling of his common sense, and pressed back, just as softly, afraid, _terrified_ of breaking the fragility of something that didn't even make sense anymore. That was completely unwarranted, completely unfair, and completely temporary; and that made it, a tiny, tiny part of his brain acknowledged, all the more precious. Really.

Because Merlin knew that Arthur was taking this too seriously, just like he took every instance which required him to prove himself seriously - be it fighting undead knights or mythical creatures. And it was heartbreaking, in this twisted way, that Arthur should trust Merlin with something like this; trust Merlin to give him reassurance, trust Merlin to let him go afterwards, trust Merlin to not bring it up again.

And Merlin, because he was Merlin, would go along with it. For Arthur.

Arthur opened his mouth a tiny bit and Merlin sighed into it, settling into the kiss because this really wasn't so bad. At all. Especially when Arthur's tongue slipped out to swipe gently at Merlin's lower lip, the one he had bitten earlier, almost in an apology. It made Merlin smile, for about a second, and then start in surprise when Arthur bit it again, in a completely different way.

His hands found their way into Arthur's hair, threading through the longish strands at the base that indicated that it was time for a haircut. Merlin opened his mouth to Arthur's and let his tongue slide, hot and slick against the other, and who was he kidding, this was really quite brilliant.

Arthur's fingers traveled, hard, ungentle over the contours of Merlin's side, rough from handling his sword, and Merlin moaned, opening his mouth further, allowing the kiss to become frantic, dirty. Arthur licked into his mouth, and it felt _filthy_, and amazing, and Merlin copied the movement, trapping Arthur's tongue against the base of his mouth and sucking on it, almost desperately, before nipping, gentle.

Then he moaned again, except he meant to _whine_, because Arthur was moving back, panting, violently red in face.

'What,' he shot, when Merlin _looked_ at him. 'A man has to breathe, Merlin.'

Merlin rolled his eyes and leant in to kiss Arthur's jaw, then his chin, and then his pulse point. He smiled again when he felt the pulse stutter under his mouth.

'You're not doing so bad,' he murmured into Arthur's neck. 'A little more practice maybe -'

He felt Arthur's breath leave him in a slight puff of laughter.

'Come on,' Arthur said, turning cheek into Merlin's hair. 'Let's go inside.'

'Hmm?' Merlin stopped worrying the hollow of Arthur's throat. 'What?'

'_Inside_, Merlin,' Arthur repeated impatiently. 'Anyone can see us here. Do you want people to think we're having an _affair_?'

Merlin tried not to die of laughing, both at the irony as well as the inexplicable happiness coursing through him.

'What?' said Arthur, sounding confused as Merlin trembled against him.

'I don't know Arthur,' Merlin said, pulling back through the laughter. '_Are_ we having an affair?'

Arthur rolled his eyes with great precision. 'If you _must_, Merlin. God, you're such a woman.'

Merlin hoped his smile wasn't as goofy as he instinctively felt it was. 'You do realize,' he said, dropping a kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth. 'That this doesn't leave much scope for an heir either.'

By now Arthur's eyes were fixated on his mouth again, and Merlin congratulated himself on a job well done. 'I suppose,' he said, lips an inch from Merlin's. 'That we can force Morgana to adopt a son. Seeing as nobody's going to marry her.'

Merlin muttered an assent before leaning in. Okay then. Whatever.

**THE END**


End file.
